


One Stop Meeting

by atomicdetectivehideout



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Dean, Bake Sale, Baking, Dean and Kids, Dean-Centric, Destiel - Freeform, First Date, First Meetings, Fluff, Librarian Castiel, Lonely Dean, M/M, More Fluff, Public Transportation, Sam and Dean bicker like an old married couple, beginning of love, everyone ships it, general cuteness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicdetectivehideout/pseuds/atomicdetectivehideout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Impala temporarily out of commission, Dean has to take the bus to work. He can handle that. And it's okay that the bus is jam packed every morning and he has no space to move or breath and there's that thing jabbing into his back. But awkward moments? Dean can't handle those. Too bad they keep happening with the handsome man on the bus.</p><p>This is a one-shot turned multi-chaptered story!</p><p>Dean and the handsome stranger, Castiel, are finally getting to know each other over coffee when Cas finds out he'll need some extra help with the bake sale tomorrow. Certainly Dean will help him with that, right? </p><p>Dean's just such a sucker for those big blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean hates taking the bus. He doesn’t have to do it often. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of occasions he had needed to take the bus to get around since he had gotten his learner’s permit when he was sixteen. But this was an unexpected circumstance and he had to suck it up. He drops his change into the farebox and crams his way onto the full bus.

 

Dean misses the Impala. It is only day one of public transit and Dean has already had enough. Usually, Dean likes having someone pressed up against him. But not like this. There are five strangers touching him from all different sides. He can feel someone breathing on his neck. Something is stabbing him in the kidney. The little girl in the seat in front of him is rhythmically kicking him in the shins. She could keep time like you would not believe. One day she would probably make an excellent drummer. The sock monkey hat gave her a free pass, in Dean’s opinion.

 

Once the doors shut on the bus, it lurches into motion making everyone sway and stumble. Dean tries to reposition his stance with his limited range of motion and clings onto the bar.

 

It might have been about 40 degrees outside, but soon after the doors shut it felt almost tropical. He plucks nervously at his scarf and considers opening his coat just to be able to breathe again.

 

If only the axle on the Impala hadn’t cracked last night. It had been dark and Dean had misjudged the size of the pothole. He hadn’t avoided it and the clicking that started after the bump made him check when he go home. Definitely cracked. He’d hopped online and made a few calls and replacement parts were on their way, but he’d have to brave the bus for the next few days until they arrived.

 

Dean hears his stop being announced and his stomach flops at the thought of pushing through everyone to get off. He turns just as the bus lurches to a stop and his foot collides with a bag that is resting between a man’s feet. It looks like a laptop bag. Dean cursed under his breath at his luck of kicking what was probably an expensive laptop. He looks up to apologize and makes eye contact with clear blue eyes.

 

“Hey, man. Sorry for kicking your bag,” he blurts out. The man gives a small smile and a quick nod before Dean turns and squeezes his way between all the other passengers. The doors nearly shut on him on his way out. Dean sighs a breath of relief and shivers at the temperature drop. He isn’t even late for work.

 

***

 

Dean bolts out the front door the next morning, quickly doing up his jacket.

 

He had seriously considered taking a cab to work this morning. Dean had spent most of his shift the day before thinking about his embarrassing moment yesterday and he cringes again now just thinking about the moment of impact when his foot kicked the handsome man’s bag. But what are the odds of him being on the bus again at the _same time_? Probably not that high, right? It may be rush hour, but who knows where he was going. Maybe he just had an appointment. Yeah. That’s it.

 

Dean brightens under his false optimism and almost bounces to the bus stop. There’s no need to be embarrassed because he was clumsy yesterday. He’ll never see that guy ever again. What are the odds?

 

Naturally, luck does not appear to be in his favour today. He can see the man sitting near the rear exit. Dean cringes inside and drops his gaze to the floor.

 

At the next stop, several people cram onto the already full bus, and Dean finds himself being shoved further down the bus to the midsection. He’s definitely not noticing that he’s in closer proximity to the man. The bus pulls away from the stop and Dean allows himself a glance. The man is reading, intently focused on a hard covered book in his lap, so Dean decides to take it as an opportunity to let his eyes linger. Dark, messy hair, slight bags under the eyes, god awful brown trench coat… Yet somehow, they all blended together perfectly to make this handsome man. Dean let his thoughts wander as he kept watching him.

 

Dean wished he hadn’t been in such a rush to get off the bus yesterday. He definitely wouldn’t have kicked that laptop bag. What a first impression that is.

 

The stranger goes to turn the page, hand going to his mouth to lick a finger, eyes taking a break and glancing at the people around him. His eyes land on Dean. Dean can feel his face redden and he swings his head up to look at the ceiling. Great. Now he’s been caught basically staring at this person. Right after his embarrassing thing yesterday. Could taking the bus be any more painful?

 

The minutes trickle by and Dean is stuck in a hot mess of strangers touching him and sweat running down his back. He cannot wait for the Impala to be fixed. Dean returns to his thoughts and tries to only occasionally glance at the handsome man.

 

Dean is focusing so intensely on not making eye contact and trying to look casual, he nearly misses his stop. He’s only heard the tail-end of it  being announced and he’s still  in the middle of the bus with people packed in on both sides of him.

 

“Excuse me,” Dean says to the people in front of him. A couple of them shuffle a little, but not enough for Dean to get by. He rolls his eyes and pushes through anyway. There’s no time for fake politeness when he needs to get off the bus NOW. The doors open and only two people exit. He’s gotta get there too, but it just feels like the people are crowding him now. His anxiety levels sky rocket and he pushes harder. His coat must have snagged on something as he passes and he can feel himself getting stalled where he stands. Dean gives a sharp tug and goes flying into the person in front of him. A bead of sweat actually drips down his brow from a combination warmth of the bus and his nerves. He would have landed on the floor were it not for all the people here and the soft lap he’s fallen on. Dean looks up. Of course it’d be him. He could only have landed in the lap of the man with the nicest blue eyes.

 

But there’s no time for this this morning. Dean flails out of the man’s lap with a hurried apology. He can hear the doors starting to shut.

 

“Wait!” he yells. “I still need to get off!”

 

His arm goes flying to grab the nearest pole, but instead collides with the man’s face. Dean feels his stomach drop.

 

“Oh shit, I am so sorry!” he says feeling incredibly flustered.

 

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” the man tells him. “You should be getting off the bus though. It’s waiting for you.” Dean blinks at that and suddenly remembers that things are actually still happening around him.

 

“Right.” He pulls himself upright finally and pushes through the rest of the people holding his breath until his feet are firmly on the solid ground of the sidewalk. Dean exhales deeply. Well that was another disaster of a morning.

 

***

 

The third day of Dean taking the bus was freezing--well below freezing, in fact. He had thrown on an extra sweater and wrapped his scarf around his neck and chin twice. His walk to his bus stop was at a brisk pace to warm himself up.

 

He doesn’t have to wait very long that morning at least. As Dean approached the bus stop, he could hear it in the distance.

 

The bus pulls to a stop in front of Dean. He can already see that the windows are fogged up inside. He cringes inside at the thought of another sweltering bus ride, and can already feel the sweat rolling down his spine. The doors creak open and a blast of warm, moist air hit him. The bus was already almost full, but he had just enough space. As long as no one else is going to get on, that is.

 

As the bus starts to move Dean settles into his little corner, already absorbing the heat of the bus. Everyone seems to be wearing bigger and puffier coats than before. Sure, it’s colder out today, but is it really necessary? Really? The person in front of him seems to have the biggest hood Dean has ever seen. Why does this person even still have a hood on? The inside of this bus feels like a sweltering 90 degrees. Dean feels his temperature rise just thinking about all the layers this person must be wearing.

 

Dean tries to take as good of a look around as he possibly can. Wagging his head around to try and see between all the standing people, he isn’t able to make out the dark hair, blue eyes, or tan coat of the man from the last couple of days. Dean sighs to himself. No awkward glances or butterflies in his stomach today. No accidental hits or kicks either. He's undecided whether he's happy about that.

 

Now that he's done searching for the handsome stranger, he can think about other things. Like exactly how hot it is inside the bus. As he unzips his coat, the back of his hand brushes against the back of the big hooded coat in front of him. He tries not to hit the stranger again while he unwinds his scarf next. Oh, there’s the sweat actually starting to roll down his back now. _How is this person still wearing their hood up?_ Dean stresses in his head.

 

Almost like the stranger can hear Dean’s thoughts, the hood comes down. Into Dean’s face. It would have been okay. Dean realizes that there is no space on the bus. And really, where would it have gone other than into his face? But this hood. It has the largest amount of fur trim. And it settles perfectly under Dean’s nose. Nearly immediately, he feels the urge to sneeze. He cranes his neck into an unnatural angle to avoid the fur. There’s no way he’ll be able to maintain this pose for the rest of his ride.

 

Dean is able to hold his neck uncomfortably for all of thirty seconds. He strains for another ten before settling back to upright. His nose, of course, starts to tickle again immediately. Why does this have to happen? Dean tries to turn his head to the left and then the right, but the hood is just too big and Dean’s personal space is just too small.

 

Dean tries so hard to hold it in. But he just can’t.

 

Dean sneezes.

 

So loudly. Three people look up at him. One glares and pulls her scarf up to cover her nose and mouth like he’s contagious.

 

Mr. Hood had jumped a foot, clearly startled. Dean did just sneeze on the back of his head. His eyes shoot down to his shoes. _How do you make a packed bus ride worse? Contaminate a stranger._ Hood jerkily turns around as the bus continues to bump and shake.

 

“Bless you,” Mr. Hood says in a deep rumbly voice. _Is that that man’s natural voice?_ Dean can feel himself starting to flush at that. He looks up from his shoes to thank the stranger.

 

Oh. The blue eyes. Dean’s breath catches in his throat.

 

“Awesome. Thanks,” Dean responds. Blue eyes bore into his. He takes a few seconds before he decides to continue. “Sorry again about yesterday. The bus just goes in all directions and all the people shove and--” Dean can feel himself rambling at the intense gaze directed at him and is grateful when he gets cut off.

 

“Please, don’t mention it. It just happens when you ride the bus.” A small smile starts at the corner of the stranger’s mouth. “You don’t take the bus often do you?”

 

“Ah, no. Never. My baby--my car broke the other day,” Dean finds himself explaining.

 

A small frown graces the man’s face. “What happened?” he asks.

 

Dean starts talking about his baby. He can do that. He could talk about her all day. And the man is listening intently, asking questions where appropriate.

 

He speaks animatedly with the man the entire trip, not even noticing the time pass or whatever it is that is jabbing into his back. He almost misses the recording that announces that it is his stop.

 

“This is me, I gotta run. I’ll see you tomorrow?” He looks up expectantly at the stranger while he starts to move between people to the exit. He doesn’t expect the man to start pushing along right behind him. He definitely would remember if he had gotten off at the same stop yesterday.

 

They both emerge from the bus, cold air chilling Dean rapidly. He hasn’t yet had the chance to do his coat back up or put his scarf back on.

 

“Is this your stop too?”

 

“No, but we were talking and I wanted to continue.”

 

Dean feels a burst of warmth in his chest. Wasn’t he cold just now? It seems like such a distant memory already.

 

“Don’t you have some place to be?” Dean can’t help but ask.

 

“My stop is only one two stops after this one. I can just walk the rest of the way. I was enjoying our conversation.” _How can you just say that so plainly?_ Dean can’t help but wonder.

 

“Me too. I’m Dean.”

 

“My name is Castiel.” Dean has definitely never heard that name before. It’s unique and Dean really likes the way it rolls off _Castiel’s_ tongue. “I work at the library three blocks away from here.”

 

“Listen, I’m really sorry for the past few days. Kicking your laptop, then hitting you in the face… ” Dean rubs the back of his head as he trails off.

 

“Please don’t worry yourself. They were only accidents.” The right side of Castiel’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Unless they weren’t?”

 

“They definitely were! It was so embarrassing… Can I make it up to you? We can get coffee or something? Especially since you work so nearby.” Dean can feel himself starting to ramble and is ever so grateful when Castiel responds.

 

“There’s nothing to make up for, but that would be nice.” Castiel’s smile fills his face and Dean can feel the flush in his cheeks. Is it still cold out? He’s definitely not feeling the cold on his face anymore, at least.

 

They stand there smiling at each other.

 

If it were anyone else, Dean feels like this might be considered awkward, but Castiel’s smile is just so nice.

 

But he’s starting to feel the chill of winter again and he should _probably_ be getting to work.

 

Dean pats his coat down looking for his phone. “I gotta get to work, but I’ll take your number. We can figure out a time.” Castiel nods in agreement, smile still in place. Dean’s still patting his coat, but he still can’t find his phone.

 

“I must’a left my phone at home today. Do you have a pen and paper and I can take it the good ole fashioned way?”

 

Castiel’s raises an eyebrow. “Of course,” he says simply. Castiel absentmindedly raises his right hand to his mouth and pulls his glove off with his teeth. Dean wills his jaw not to drop and is very proud of his self restraint. Watching the glove dangling from Castiel’s mouth, Dean misses where the marker actually comes from.

 

Castiel uncaps the marker and reaches for Dean’s hand. He lets it go loose and follows the direction Castiel pulls it into. Ten digits are meticulously written onto the back of his hand.

 

“There you go.” Dean looks up to Castiel’s eyes. You’d think that for such blue eyes, they’d look cold, but all Dean can see is warmth in them.

 

“Thank you,” he feels the words fall out of his mouth.

 

“You’re welcome.” Castiel flips Dean’s hand over, palm up and he adds one last thing. Dean sees the outline of a small blue heart. Castiel’s hand is so warm under his.

 

“See you soon, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr wasting my life [here](http://atomicdetectivehideout.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reposting this because apparently only a fraction of the chapter had been posted last time! 
> 
> I broke it. Omg, I broke it with emoticons.

Dean stares at his phone. He keyed in Castiel’s phone number into it about an hour ago and has still not texted him. Dean has waited all day before texting him. And it’s not because he’s _scared_. Dean is nervous. It’s different. He’s just been busy at work. Then he braved the bus home. There just hasn’t been time.

 

Dean lays back on his couch, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against his phone. He’s only asking someone for a coffee. It’s not a marriage proposal. Why is this psyching him out so badly? Why is he thinking about _marriage_ of all things? He’s only been thinking about Castiel all day, with his blue eyes and scruffy good looks. Normal things.

 

But he glances at the faded outline of the heart on his palm for the hundredth time today. He can do this. He can text Castiel.

 

‘Hey’ he types out. ‘how’s it going’ He pauses to think. Is that okay? Ahh, it’s fine. Dean hits send and puts his phone down. He will not obsess over this. He will not check it every ten seconds. He will be good and do something else, anything else, and Castiel will reply eventually. This is fine.

 

Dean turns and walks away from the phone to his kitchen.

 

And immediately does a one eighty and goes to collect the phone again. The volume is off. Just because he’s not manning it every second doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know when he gets a text.

 

Dean puts it down again and goes back to the kitchen. He opens the fridge and thinks about dinner. He has ketchup and half a can of beans. There is nothing he can make with that. He checks the cupboards. A dented can of soup. Yes. That means it’s pizza night.

 

He boots up his laptop rather than call in his order because he has self restraint, damn it. Dean is feeling proud of himself for that so he decides that double cheese is deserved. He places his order and logs onto Facebook for a minute. He has a new pending friend request from a certain “Puke Party”. Dean clicks to the profile page. No friends in common, no photos of a real person. Why would he add this person back when he has no idea who they are? He’s thinking about that when he finally realises that he didn’t actually tell Cas who was texting him. He lunges for his phone.

 

‘Btw, this is Dean from the bus.’ Send. Phew.

 

Only thirty seconds pass before his phone notifies him of an incoming text.

 

‘That’s a relief. I thought you were just a wrong number. ’

 

‘Whats with the bee?’

 

‘I just like them.  They are amazing creatures.’

 

‘Hey man im not disagreeing. Do you always use emoticons’

 

‘I feel they add something extra to text messaging. ’

 

Dean exhales a sigh of relief. This is going fine. What had he been so worried about again?

 

They continue texting into the evening. Dean’s pizza arrives and he has his dinner. He’s got a movie on in the background that he only pays attention to when he’s not texting Castiel. His movie ends and he still hasn’t asked Castiel about going on their coffee date. He will do that in his next response.

 

‘So did you want to get coffee tomorrow, maybe? ’

 

Well, it looks like Cas has beat him to it.

 

‘That is great! When are you done work?’

 

‘5:30. What about you?’

 

Dean is done work at six, so they make plans for Castiel to come to the garage to meet him. His heart rate is finally able to return to normal for the first time all evening.

 

***

 

Dean has been tense all day. Every time someone approached him he has jumped. He can not figure out for the life of him why he’s so nervous. They’re only getting coffee. It’s not like they’re getting _married_ or anything. _Oh good, two marriage references in two days_ , he thinks to himself. _This is fine._

 

Maybe, if he had’ve taken the bus this morning and seen Castiel, his nerves would be calmed now. The parts he’d needed to repair the Impala had arrived while he was at work yesterday and he’d been able to get her started again with minimal problems. Dean had ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach that morning as he drove past his bus stop.

 

Maybe, if he’d been able to think about anything other than the impending coffee date, he wouldn’t be building it up in his head, but that seems to be a lost cause for him. It’s now five o'clock and any time his thoughts had drifted away from his work, he’d found himself daydreaming about what Castiel’s stubble would feel like when they kissed.

 

IF!

 

If they kissed.

 

_This is fine_ , he repeated to himself.

 

***

 

Only fifteen minutes later, Dean hears his phone go off. His heart stops. This is it. This is Castiel cancelling on him. It’s over before it can even begin. Well, they had their good moments. He can savor them. Quietly. And alone. Forever.

 

Dean checks the message.

 

‘The evening person has called in sick and I have to stay until 8:30 now.  I’m so sorry. I was looking forward to seeing you all day. ’

 

Dean’s heart starts working again in double time. He can feel the blood rushing to his face and his cheeks flushing immediately. Castiel was looking forward to seeing him _all day_. His phone beeps again.

 

‘When you’re done work, would you like to stop by for a bit? ’

 

“Yes!” Dean exclaims out loud. He gets a few glances for his outburst before he realizes that he should probably text his _calm_ response to Castiel.

 

‘I could do that. Should I bring coffee?’

 

Dean can totally play it cool.

 

***

 

Dean pushes open the door to the library. He is immediately hit with the smell of paper and _old_. He can’t remember the last time he actively chose to come to the library without Sam. He walks to the main desk, coffee tray in one hand and donuts in the other. There is a young woman sitting behind it focusing very intently on the computer. She doesn’t look up until Dean is directly in front of her and he has cleared his throat.

 

“Oh! Sorry! Can I help you?” she asks Dean.

 

“I’m looking for Castiel… I don’t know his last name… but I brought him a coffee.”

 

“Yes! He mentioned someone might be looking for him. He’s at the back of the building. There’s another desk back there. It’s where he usually works.”

 

Dean thanks her and shoots her his usual dazzling grin. She looks momentarily stunned before she is able to smile back. He feels slightly comforted by the fact that he can shake someone up with just a smile. He can’t be nervous if he can still do that.

 

He walks towards the back of the library in search of this other desk. The path is slightly winding with all of the book shelves, but he is able to find it. And of course there isn’t anyone there. Dean walks around the desk and sits himself down on the computer chair. He puts the coffee and donuts down and reclines back as far as the chair will go, hands behind his head. This desk is in a great spot to lean back like this. There is a skylight just above the desk. It’s a clear night and the stars are out. He lets his mind wander for a little while.

 

“You’re not supposed to be sitting there.”

 

Dean bolts up, but doesn’t see anyone. He looks down. There’s a little girl sitting at his feet. She can’t be older than five. Her hair is in pigtails that are crooked.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“‘Cause you’re not Cas,” she responds primly.

 

“I’m not. But I’m waiting for him.”

 

The little girl pauses and looks at him contemplatively. “I guess that’s okay.” She sticks her hand out to shake. “I’m Bethy.”

 

“Hi Bethy.” Dean shakes her small, slightly sticky hand.

 

“Not Bethy. BETHY.”

 

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that other than to apologize. He’s saved before he can do that.

 

“What are you doing, Bethany?” _Bethany_. That’s what she was trying to say? “Are you bothering the nice man?”

 

“He’s in your chair! That’s YOUR chair.”

 

“Bethany. Do you need to borrow _We Share Everything_ again? We could find you _The Paper Bag Princess_ too.”

 

“Hmmm…. Maybe. I’ll go find mommy now.” And with that Bethany scampers off around the desk.

 

“Sorry about that, Dean. I hope she didn’t bother you. Bethany is here all the time. She seems to like me and have issues with sharing,” Castiel explains.

 

“She called you Cas,” Dean blurts out.

 

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “Yes, she does. She has a hard enough time saying her own name, it seemed mean to make her try Castiel instead.”

 

“That’s cute--nice. Very nice.” Dean can feel himself start to panic. He changes the topic in the hopes that it will calm him down. “I brought your coffee. And some donuts. I didn’t know what kind you would like, so I got a few different ones. I like all of them, so you can have first choice.”

 

Castiel looks at Dean and gives him a small smile. “Thank you. I like donuts too. We can share them all.”

 

“I went to the fancy donut place. I got eggnog, London fog, hot chocolate, lemon shortbread, winter vanilla, and toast and butter.”

 

“Those definitely sound like fancy donuts. Were those all actually donuts?”

 

“They most certainly are,” Dean answers giddily. He opens the donut box with reverence. Dean carefully tears each donut in half while Castiel brings another chair over and places it beside his own computer chair.

 

“Which do you want to try first?” Dean asks. “I think you’d like hot chocolate.”

 

“I’ll try that first then,” Cas agrees.

 

They sit quietly while sharing the treats, exchanging the occasional critique on the donuts. Dean is finally starting to feel at ease with what is happening.

 

“I can’t remember the last time I came to a library,” he lets slip out.

 

“Oh really?” Castiel asks him.

 

“Well, I’ve dropped my baby brother off, but that’s as close as I’ve come to one.”

 

“What’s the last book you read?”

 

“I haven’t really had much time to read lately, but I think it was American Gods by Neil Gaiman. I don’t know why I told you the author. I’m sure you know him. Who doesn’t?” Damn, Dean feels himself getting rambly again.

 

Castiel, thankfully, doesn’t seem to mind when Dean rambles. “You should get a library card!” he exclaims. “I could recommend new books for you whenever you come in.”

 

Dean looks up at the warm smile Castiel is giving him. He can feel the rest of his nerves evaporate and he returns the smile. There is no way to think ‘he wants me to visit him’ without sounding like a lovesick teenage girl.

 

“Do you just want an excuse for me to keep coming back?” Dean shoots Castiel a small smirk. Castiel flushes and takes another bite of donut. Dean is pleased that he can make Castiel just as nervous as he was feeling.

 

“Do I need an excuse?” Dean can feel his usual flirty self-confidence returning.

 

Castiel flushes more. “To visit me? You can visit me whenever you’d like, Dean.”

 

Dean can’t help but smile at that. “As long as I bring coffee and donuts again?”

 

“They’re not a requirement. More of an added bonus.”

 

“Castiel!”

 

Dean and Castiel turn to the new voice. There is a stern looking woman in front of Castiel’s desk. “I thought you had taken your break already,” she says firmly while crossing her arms.

 

“Eleanor. Yes, I had, but Dean stopped by with coffee for me. It would have been rude to send him away.”

 

Eleanor gives Dean a good long look. “I suppose since you’re doing me a favor by working the evening shift tonight, I can overlook this.” Eleanor’s tone changes to something far friendlier. “And he’s such a looker!” Dean’s eyes widen and he looks over at Castiel to gauge his reaction. Castiel’s cheeks are flaming red now.

 

“Ellie! Don’t you have things to do? Over there?” He vaguely points to his left.

 

“Touchy, touchy. I could find something to do. ‘Over there.’ Nice meeting you, _Dean_.” There was something he couldn’t place in the way she said his name.

 

Dean looks back to Castiel after Eleanor leaves. “What was that?”

 

Castiel sighs. “That is the library manager, Eleanor. She’s very lovely. Very intelligent. She’s just… like everyone’s mother. She takes an interest in everyone’s personal life and she will try to help however she can. But like a mother’s love, you know it’s always there, but it’s not always the best time to appear.”

 

“So will you be in trouble because I’m here?” Dean can’t help but ask.

 

“No, we’re more at risk of her watching on the security cameras. But I do actually have a lot to work on tonight as someone had called in sick today. I know I won’t get it all done if you’re here. You’re a bit of a distraction for me.”

 

Dean sputters the coffee he was just sipping. “Am I?”

 

“Just a little,” Castiel replies passing a napkin to Dean.  He adds with a small smirk, “Especially when you can’t drink your coffee.”

 

“You can’t just say things like that, Cas!” Dean says indignantly while blotting his mouth. He can feel that flush returning.

 

“Are you going to start calling me ‘Cas’ too? Only Bethany calls me that.” Castiel pauses and looks thoughtful. “I suppose that would be okay if you did too.”

 

“It’s good that I have your permission because I probably would have started calling you that anyway.” Dean aims his dirty napkin to the garbage can and throws. He misses and because of that, he probably didn’t put enough thought into what he says next. “Ever get told that ‘Castiel’ is a mouthful?”

 

Cas’ eyebrows shoot almost to his hairline. Dean looks to him before really realizing what he’s just said. “...Because it’s such an uncommon name…” he carefully tacks on.

 

Castiel laughs loudly at Dean. He can’t help but notice the way Cas’ eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Well, we can’t all have easy to pronounce names like ‘Dean,’ now can we?”

 

Dean can’t help but roll his eyes. “It’s true. We just balance the world.” Cas smiles widely.

 

“I guess I should get going. Don’t want to keep you from all the work you have.” Dean stands up and picks up his coffee cup. There is still a large amount of donuts left, but Dean decides to leave them all with Cas. He can share them or take them home.

 

“Yes, plus I don’t like the idea of Ellie watching us on the cameras.” Cas stands as well.

 

“Me neither…” Dean trails off. He doesn’t want to leave, of course. But he can’t decide how to actually do it. His hand idly goes to the back of his neck. “So listen I don't know how you feel about Mexican but I know this place… Saturdays they usually have live music if you like that sort of thing…”

 

“I’d love to go to dinner on Saturday,” Cas paused with a questioning look on his face. “I assume that's what you were getting at.”

 

“Yes! That. Does seven work for you?”

 

“That would be perfect. It will give us plenty of time to make up for our shortened night tonight.” Cas grins at Dean and he can feel himself start to flush again. Oh, what he’d give to be able to control that bodily function.

 

“Awesome. Well, I will leave you to it then…” Dean hesitates. Should he kiss Cas? He starts to lean in. On the cheek? Oh the MOUTH? How does he usually do this again??

 

Castiel must notice Dean’s hesitation because he smiles again and leans in as well. He swoops a quick peck on Dean’s cheek and pulls back before Dean can even react. Dean feels overwhelmingly warm, his blush creeping down his neck. He rights himself and clears his throat.

 

“Yeah. Have a good night.”

 

“See you tomorrow night, Dean.”

 

“At seven.”

 

“At seven.”

 

“Good night.”

 

“Good night, Dean.”

 

Dean finally spins and leaves, taking wider strides than usual or else he’ll never get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr wasting my life [here](http://atomicdetectivehideout.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Dean grabbed his keys and headed towards the door. Then turned back and ran to the bathroom one last time. He closely inspected his hair a final time. _Now_ he can leave. He tries to convince himself that he’s still not nervous about this. He’s just finally going to sit down with Cas with no interruptions. No work, no fellow commuters, no adorable children. Dean feels his heart rate pick up slightly as he actually leaves his apartment this time, letting the door slam behind him.

 

His phone chirps as he locks the door. He pulls it out to check.

 

‘I have some bad news. ’

 

Dean’s heart sinks.

 

His phone chirps again.

 

‘I can no longer do dinner tonight. The library is having a bake sale tomorrow and the person that called in sick yesterday was going to be making the majority of the desserts. I’m getting roped into baking things.’

Oh. Well, that’s shitty. Dean can feel his excitement going from one hundred to none, chin dropping to his chest and shoulders slumping. That’s okay. They can reschedule.

 

His phone goes off a third time.

 

‘Would you be interested in helping me bake? The company would be nice at least.’

 

Dean runs to the elevator. ‘OMW’

 

***

 

Dean is sitting in the Impala outside the library waiting for Cas. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel in his impatience. Cas’ shift had ended ten minutes ago and with each passing second, Dean can feel his heart rate increase in his anticipation. He really wishes he could control that.

 

Dean still hasn’t quite been able to pinpoint exactly what it is about Castiel that makes his heart speed up. They’ve known each other for less than a week and most of it has been pretty embarrassing. There is actually no reason why this extremely handsome, kind man should be effecting him this way.

 

Movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention. Cas has just left the library. He scans the area and Dean can tell the exact moment Cas’ eyes land on him and the Impala because they light up and a smile fills his face. Dean can feel heat spread across his cheeks and soaks in the image in front of him: Cas smiling at him, beige trench coat open and fanning out behind him as he approaches the car. Dean’s mouth goes dry.

 

Cas gets to the car and opens the passenger door. He slides in gracefully and does up the seat belt. “I’m sorry for making you wait but thank you for picking me up.”

 

“No problem,” Dean says gruffly, trying to will his blush away.

 

“So this is your baby?” Cas asks as they pull out of the parking lot.

 

“This my baby.” Dean confirms with a smile and pats her on the dashboard. “She’s a ‘67 Chevy Impala. Best year.”

 

“She’s lovely. I’ve never been in a classic car before. You can see she is very well taken care of.” It is very apparent how much care Dean has put into his car. The leather on the seats is supple under Cas’ hand, the dash gleams, the engine purrs. She is definitely a beautiful car.

 

It turns out that Castiel lives very near to Dean -- it would only take ten minutes to walk to each other’s home. “It’s wouldn’t be out of my way,” Dean insists, barely even blushing while he tries to not make it seem like a Big Deal. “And our schedules are almost the same.” They decide, mostly Dean, that Dean would pick up Cas to carpool.

 

They get to Cas’ house after a stop at the grocery store for supplies. While at work, Cas had a chance to carefully select recipes, make a schedule and shopping list. “This is a very exact list, Cas. Three tablespoons of pure vanilla extract?” “I just like knowing exactly how much I need.” Despite Dean playing around with the shopping cart, they work well together, finding everything with ease and check out in no time.

 

Cas lays out the plan of attack for the evening on their way to Cas’. They would bake four batches of cupcakes, two vanilla and two chocolate, then four batches of classic chocolate chip while the cupcakes cooled and then were frosted.

 

Dean watches Castiel sort everything out on his kitchen counter. He pulls out a kitchen scale and puts it in front of Dean. “Would you mind washing up and starting to scale out ingredients?”

 

“I have to weigh everything?” Dean asks.

 

“It makes everything more precise,” Cas says with a smile. “I’ll get you some bowls and the recipe.”

 

“I should probably tell you right about now that I don’t really bake. I barely cook. And I've never followed a recipe. I do make a mean burger, but I took years getting it just right…” He trails off when he makes eye contact with Cas who is watching him ramble. Dean just can't figure out what it is about Castiel that makes him ramble so often. What is it that makes him want to tell him everything?

 

“That's all right, Dean. I can show you what to do,” Cas says, resting his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

 

***

 

Cas sets Dean up at one end of the counter. He is surrounded by bags of flour, sugar, cocoa powder, and other ingredients that he definitely needs to read the labels of before grabbing. Castiel is at the other end of the counter pulling out everything else they will need for their baking marathon.

 

Dean starts weighing the ingredients, focusing while Castiel is pulling more things out of cupboards and muttering to himself. Dean puts the dry ingredients in one bowl, the wet in another, just like Cas taught him. He has everything scaled out for both batches of vanilla cupcakes when Cas is done rummaging.

 

“How are you doing so far?” Cas checks.

 

“Good. I'm going to start measuring the chocolate cupcake ingredients now.”

 

“Do you want me to take over that?”

 

“No, I'm getting the hang of this now,” Dean answers happily.

 

Dean is finding the process of measuring out the ingredients to be a soothing one. Scoop, pour, check, sprinkle, check, perfect, pour. He can't help but be satisfied at the times he gets the weight correct on the first attempt.

 

Now that he is more at ease with what he's working on, Dean allows himself the chance to look around Cas’ kitchen.

 

It's a bit on the small side, but very well organized -- everything clearly has a home. The walls are painted a warm teal, which are paired with what looks like pine countertops. The dark colour does nothing to make the already small kitchen look larger, but the colour palette helps make the room look inviting and lived in. There are a few framed prints hanging on the wall beside the fridge: mustard and ketchup bottles holding hands and smiling, a kitten that has knocked over a box of kibbles and is rolling in the mess, and a collection of smiling vials and beakers with different colored liquids inside them. Hanging beneath the three prints is a chalkboard in an ornate white frame. The only thing on the board is a drawing of a bumblebee. There is a window above the kitchen sink with several plants in it. Dean’s a little too far away to tell, but he thinks they might be herbs. Dean might have never stepped foot in this kitchen before today, but it feels so welcoming. It feels like coming home.

 

[ ](http://p-fst2.pixstatic.com/533af3aedbfa3f496e00349f._w.540_s.fit_.jpg)

 

  

 

Cas had been lining the cupcake tins while Dean was measuring and now is sitting at the counter, chin resting on his hands while he studies the recipes. Dean can't help but admire his look of concentration while he reads. Cas is worrying his bottom lip while tapping a finger against his cheek. He looks like he's in deep concentration and Dean doesn't want to interrupt, but he's eager to keep talking to Cas.

 

“So Cas,” Dean starts.

 

“Yes?” Cas startles.

 

“You like baking, huh?”

 

“I do. I worked in a bakery while I was in high school, actually. I learned everything I know from there.”

 

“Oh, really? What else do you know how to make? Do you know how to make pie?” Dean can’t even contain the excitement in his voice.

 

“Do you like pie then?”

 

“I _love_ pie. It’s easily the best thing in the world. Why aren’t we making pie for this bake sale? I’d buy them all from you in a heartbeat!” Dean exclaims.

 

Cas laughs at Dean’s enthusiasm. “I was planning on making three pies, but that was before Charlie became sick. She was going to be bringing the bulk of the baked goods, but since she can’t do that, I had to revise the plan. Unfortunately, pies are a lot of work for too few pieces and I had to go for quantity.”

 

“Now that is a real shame there, Cas. You gotta at least tell me what kind of pie you were going to make.” Dean is almost bouncing in excitement at the mere thought of homemade pie, his mouth already watering.

 

Cas laughs at Dean. “Well, I was going to make two apple, obviously because it’s a classic, one to sell in slices and the other to sell whole, and the third would be blueberry, because I make the best blueberry pies.”

 

“The best, huh? I’ll have to be the judge of that one day,” Dean says slyly.

 

Cas raises an eyebrow at him. “You just want me to make you pie, don’t you?”

 

“Well, apple is my favourite, but if you say that blueberry is your best, I’ll try that first.” Dean pours the last scoop of cocoa powder in the bowl.

 

“I'm done with all the measuring. What should I do next?”

 

“Oh, already? Amazing!” Cas perks up. “I have the electric mixer set up so we can start making the batter now.”

 

Dean pours the wet ingredients into the mixer and Cas sets it to a medium high speed.

 

“Now for the dry ingredients,” Cas says, leaning on the counter in front of the mixer, going over the recipe.

 

“Awesome. This is easy so far!” Dean says in surprise. “If I’d known following recipes was so easy before, I would’ve started baking ages ago. What else do you know how to make?”

 

Dean pours all the dry ingredients into the whirring mixer.

 

“Dean, no!”

 

Flour flies everywhere, exploding like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

 

Cas scrambles to turn off the mixer. “You need to add dry ingredients slowly when the mixer is on,” Cas says, flour shaking from his chin and eyebrows with the movement of his mouth. “And at a lower speed.” There is a mound of flour beside the mixer and it’s in a fine layer on the rest of the counter.

 

“Awesome,” Dean says. He looks up at Cas and grins. His once solid black shirt is now speckled with flour making it look like the night sky. It goes all the way down his front, trickling down his jeans. The majority of the flour is on the lower half of Cas’ face, all caught in his stubble, and his shoulders.

 

Dean can't help but laugh at the view. “You look like you aged fifty years!”

 

Cas raises his eyebrows. “Do I? How did you avoid all the fallout?” he asks.

 

Dean shrugs. “Karma probably?”

 

“Is that so?” Cas laughs at him. “That just won't do.” Cas pulls Dean in close.

 

And rubs his face on Dean's shirt.

 

Dean sputters in horror. “What are you doing?” he exclaims.

 

“Just karma,” Cas answers with a completely straight face.

 

Dean sits there sputtering a moment longer while Cas watches him. Then Cas is laughing heartily at him. “I can't keep it in anymore. You look ridiculous.”

 

“Me? What about you?”

 

“Well, I can't see myself so I can only laugh at you.”

 

“I'm ridiculous?” Dean points accusingly at Cas. “You're ridiculous!”

 

Cas just laughs harder at him.

 

Dean gives Cas a hard look before he also dissolves into laughter.

 

Over his own laughter he can hear Cas’. He doesn't think he's heard anything more lovely than that. And Dean never uses words like _lovely_.

 

***

 

They keep working with minimal mess now that Dean has learned his lesson. They agree to order in Chinese and only break when the did arrives. Conversation flows easily between them and Dean feels himself becoming increasingly more comfortable with Castiel. He's barely even blushing anymore. Dean finds Cas easy to speak with. They have similar points of view on many things despite their different upbringings -- Cas with a large family and even larger extended family in an extremely religious environment; Dean having just his brother, Sam, his mom and dad, a family friend here and there with no serious mentions of God other than to blaspheme.

 

They finish the final cupcake just before midnight.

 

“And… it's done!” Dean throws down his piping bag with a flourish.

 

Castiel approaches with his bag of sprinkles and drops some on top.

 

“They're beautiful. Are you sure you've never done this before?” Cas teases.

 

Dean's improvement is apparent in the trays of cupcakes. The swirls of the first cupcakes are loose and a little lopsided, but the final one is a picture perfect cupcake.

 

Despite never decorating cupcakes before and certainly never touching frosting with anything other than his mouth, Dean had insisted that he wanted to learn. He had picked it up quickly under Cas’ watchful eye.

 

“I just like working with my hands.” Dean shrugged.

 

Cas snaps a photo of the last cupcake. Dean gives him a confused look. Sure, it was a nice cupcake but…

 

“It's for the library's Facebook page. I'm in charge of our social media and events. This photo is perfect for a last minute reminder.”

 

“You think it's that nice?”

 

“Oh, most definitely. We'll have people lining up for your cupcakes. I should take another photo with you in it.”

 

“Ho, boy!” Dean exclaims with a wink. “What is the money going to anyway?”

 

“Half the proceeds are going to the library's classes. We have craft classes, computer ones, tutoring, networking… Things like that. The other half with go to the elementary school around the corner. They need some extra funding for their art program.”

 

“Sounds like you've got some good causes there, Cas.”

 

“They are rather close to my heart,” Cas says with a grin. “Are you free tomorrow too?”

 

Dean's heart jumps. “I'm sure I could be. Why do you ask?”

 

“Would you be interested in helping me at the bake sale tomorrow? Charlie will probably still be sick and it was just going to be the two of us manning the sale tomorrow.”

 

Dean had been hoping Cas would have said something more date-like, but working at a bake sale together could be fun too.

 

“What time should I pick you up at?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas' three prints are from Nut and Bee, a now defunct company that used to have the most adorable illustrations. The kitchen image is curtesy of Google image search. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr wasting my life [here](http://atomicdetectivehideout.tumblr.com/).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not beta'd, but I went over it a handful of times. Any remaining errors are all my fault!

It's early Sunday morning, too early for a weekend really, and Dean's just pulling out of his driveway. Sam is so lucky that he loves him. And that Dean's the best big brother in the world. They usually have a weekly lunch on a weekday to catch up, but Sam had midterms and had to study. Dean was very accommodating and Sam had better appreciate it. The only time Sam was free was Sunday morning for breakfast. So it was at the ungodly hour of nine AM on a Sunday that Dean has left his apartment to meet Sam.

 

He pulls up to their usual greasy spoon and can already see Sam sitting in the window. He's nursing a cup of coffee and though Dean hasn't been outside for too long, he can already feel the chill of the wind and hopes Sam ordered one for him too. 

 

Dean slides into the booth across from Sam and shivers. He’s relieved to see a steaming mug waiting for him and he immediately takes a big, burning swig before he even says hi.

 

“Hello to you too, Dean. It’s like you were raised in a barn,” Sam says with a raised eyebrow. “I see you got the car fixed.”

 

“What? It’s cold out. I’m warming up.”

 

“You’re welcome for your coffee, by the way. I also ordered for you because you’re late.” Dean can see Sam’s bitchface starting to form, and he can’t help but feel a sense of pride.

 

“Dude, it’s ass’o’clock on a Sunday,” Dean complains. “We should still be asleep. I need all my beauty rest. I have things to do today.”

 

Sam’s jaw drops. “You actually made plans for a Sunday?  _ You _ . But you usually sleep until one in the afternoon, order two pizzas and spend the rest of the day eating them while in front of the TV. Are you okay?” He presses the back of his hand to Dean’s forehead, pretending to check his temperature. Dean swats his hand and leans as far away as he can in the narrow booth. 

 

“Stop that!” He nearly hits the waitress as she approaches with their breakfast. “Sorry, sweetheart.” he says with a beaming grin. She narrows her eyes at him as she puts the plates down. “Oops,” Dean shrugs.

 

“You can’t flirt your way out of everything, Dean,” Sam tells him.

 

“I can damn well try, Sammy,” Dean says defiantly.

 

“Sure, sure. So what are your plans for later today? They must be important for you to even have made them!”

 

Dean’s not sure how he wants to respond. He stalls by taking a bite of the breakfast sandwich Sam ordered for him. It’s perfect--cheesy, eggy, a single slice of lettuce, and grilled to perfection. He chews slowly before putting it down. Sam knows exactly what he’s doing and waits to start eating, choosing to watch Dean, putting him on the spot. 

 

“Uhhh…” he starts slowly. “I’m, uhh, volunteering at a bake sale?”

 

It’s probably a good thing that Sam had waited to start eating because he gasps so loudly, he would have choked for sure. “You. Are volunteering for something? You are volunteering? Why? … Who are you?”

 

Dean shrugs. “Okay, just calm down. It’s not a big deal. I’m just helping someone out.”

 

“But  _ who _ ?” 

 

“Jesus, Sam, can you calm down about this? I have friends.” 

 

“Well,” Sam starts slowly, “you kinda don’t. Which is why this is so crazy right now.”

 

“Can we drop this?” Dean asks with a sigh.

 

“No. And a bake sale?” Sam asks incredulously. 

 

Dean whines. “Yes, Sammy. A bake sale. Why are you making this such a big deal?”

 

Sam throws his hands up into the air. “Because you have a new friend that has you volunteering at a bake sale on a Sunday! Who is this miracle worker?” 

 

Dean purses his lips in frustration. Sam looks at him expectantly, not budging until Dean finally speaks. Why does Sam have to know him so damn well? “His name is Castiel. I met him on the bus.”

 

“And you thought taking the bus for a few days was going to be terrible,” Sam says with a huge smirk.

 

Dean scoffs. “Oh, it was horrible. It was always full and sweaty and people were touching me. I’m no germaphobe, but one day, I saw someone  _ sneeze on a handrest _ . No cover. Sprayed  _ everywhere _ . Disgusting.”

 

Sam gives him a look like he doesn't believe him. What's not to believe? That absolutely happened. “You are the biggest germaphobe I know, Dean.” Dean scoffs again. 

 

“I'm so glad I could come have breakfast with you so I could be attacked.” Dean takes a huge bite of his sandwich in frustration.

 

“Oh, Dean don't be like that. I'm just worried about you,” Sam says.

 

“I don't need you to worry about me,” Dean says defiantly.

 

“Yes, you do.” Sam’s voice is full of exasperation as he continues. “You've been holeing yourself up in your apartment for months. You're in a rut. You go to work, go home, sleep, and repeat. When was the last time you actually spent time with someone that wasn't me?”

 

Dean stops and makes himself think about it. It's February now. There was New Year's Eve, but getting drunk alone definitely doesn't count. Plus, he  _ chose _ to be alone that night. Christmas won't count for what Sam is looking for because that’s a social obligation. So then before that… there was Thanksgiving. Before that Halloween… he can't remember past Halloween. Okay, Sam might have a point.

 

He looks at Sam and sees the expectant look on his face. He decides to take another bite before answering. 

 

“Well?” Sam asks.

 

“You might be right,” Dean says through his food, spraying Sam.

 

“You're a disgusting animal,” Sam says while wiping off the back of his hand. “I didn't quite catch that though. What did you say?”

 

Dean swallows loudly and rolls his eyes before repeating, “You’re right.”

 

“ _ I know. _ ” Sam just looks so damn smug right now. “So I'm glad you've made a new friend. He already sounds like a good influence on you.”

 

Dean smiles and can feel a flush starting in his cheeks.  _ Oh no _ . He thought he was starting to get this blushing thing under control. 

 

Sam’s eyebrows raise. “Why do I get the feeling there's more to this?” he asks suspiciously. Damn Sam and his hawk eyes. “Dean…” Sam says warningly.

 

“There’s nothing!” Dean winces. He knows Sam won’t believe it with that reaction. And all Sam has to do is raise an eyebrow at him and Dean can feel his walls coming down already. Dean has to concede, to himself only, that he might be a little out of practice at this whole “dealing with people” thing if he can’t hold out from his questioning brother for any amount of time.

 

“I might… thinkheshotandhemakesmetonguetied,” Dean says really quickly. 

 

Sam laughs at him, actually laughs. “Oh my god, Dean, do you have a crush on this guy? It’s been so long!”

 

“Ughhh…” Dean just groans and Sam just laughs some more.

 

“I’m not laughing to be mean, you know that right? It’s just kind of adorable. I can’t remember the last time you had an honest to goodness crush on someone.” Sam  _ does _ sound genuine in his tone, but he’s still feeling childish over the whole thing.

 

“Can you please not call it a crush? We’re not grade school girls. We’re men,” Dean says gruffly.

 

Sam squints at Dean. “Sure. What should we call it instead? Infatuation? Passion? Oh!  _ Puppy-love _ ?”

 

“You just said you weren’t trying to be mean.” Dean glares at Sam.

 

Throwing his hands into the air defensively, Sam says, “You didn’t want to call it a crush. Our options are limited here!”

 

“How ‘bout we just talk about something else--anything else, seriously. How’s school? How’s Jess? What’s your favourite vegetable recipe?  _ Anything _ .”

 

Sam seems to be able to tell that Dean’s nerves are on the last straw. “I think I aced the test I was studying for. Jess is great. We found a great sweet potato soup recipe last week. And I think Castiel might be good for you.”

 

“Sam!”

 

“Last time, I swear.”

 

Dean mutters under his breath, saying some things that sound vaguely threatening to Sam’s wellbeing and hair, and Sam actually lets the topic drop.

 

The rest of their breakfast goes well enough. Dean had missed seeing Sam earlier in the week, but didn’t realize quite how much he looked forward to their visits until they postponed. Maybe Sam was a  _ tiny _ bit right about Dean being lonely...

 

Dean might have been able to make it the rest of the meal without any more harassment from Sam, but it just wasn't in the cards. His phone chirps from its place on the table and, naturally, Dean checks it. His heart does a little flop when he sees Cas’ name on the screen. 

 

“Oh my god, is he texting you?” the nosy moose interjects.

 

“No! Why would you even think that?” 

 

“Well,” Sam starts and Dean just knows it's going to be a numbered list. “For one, I'm the only one that ever texts you. Second, your face just lit up like a Christmas tree. Unless, you just won a contest, which is probably just a scam, please don't fall for it, I'm guessing that was Castiel.”

 

“Can you not?” 

 

“So what's he saying?”

 

Dean rolls his eyes, before checking. ‘See you soon  ’ He tries so hard to control it, but he just can't stop the spread of the grin across his face. He clears his throat and plasters a neutral look on instead. He says gruffly, “He's just saying see you soon. Calm down.”

 

“You have know this guy for so little time and you are so far gone already.”

 

“Whatever, Sammy. I gotta go. See you on our usual Tuesday?” he stands to leave, throwing some cash on the table.

 

“Aww, Dean don't be like that! I'm happy for you. I really am!” Dean can tell he's being genuine, but he's too sour now to change his attitude at this point.

 

“Great. On Tuesday we can watch a chick flick and do each other's nails. I gotta go, bitch.”

 

“Jerk,” Sam replies immediately. Dean knows it's just habit at this point, but it still reassures him that their relationship is fine.

  
“See ya, Sasquatch.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long and I'm sorry for that! On the other hand, I have most of the next chapter written, so it shouldn't be too long for the next update!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr wasting my life [here](http://atomicdetectivehideout.tumblr.com/).


	5. Chapter 5

Dean pulls into the library's parking lot five minutes early. He'd left the diner earlier than he needed to and decided to make a quick stop before going to meet Cas. He gathers his purchases and speed walks inside. Why does it still have to be so damn cold? Isn't winter over yet?

 

There are a handful of other cars in the lot which surprises him. The library isn't open yet and Cas had said it would just be them working the bake sale. 

 

Cas had texted again telling him to use the back entrance (Dean only giggled a little at that) because it'd be unlocked. He goes into the warmth and is taken in by the silence of the library. It's usually quiet in libraries, but with no people in it, it should be an eerie silence. Instead Dean feels a sense of calm that soothes him.

 

Which is shattered when he hears a crash from somewhere within the library. He heads for where the sound has come from. Dean finds the source easily--there's a room not too far away from the entrance he used. There are tables pushed up against the walls and covered in pink plastic tablecloths, the walls of the room are bare, but Dean can see a pile of red, pink, and white decorations that look like they're waiting to be put up. In the middle of the room is Castiel. He's hunching over, back to Dean and picking something up off the ground. 

 

“Hey,” Dean says softly.

 

Cas must have not heard him come in because he visibly jumps at the sound of Dean's voice, causing him to drop what he'd already picked up. “Dean!” he nearly shouts. “You scared me. When did you get here?” 

 

Dean can't help but laugh. Poor Cas looks so ruffled. His hair is sticking every which way, his eyes are still a little wide in surprise, and Dean thinks he might even be able to see a hint of a flush in his cheeks. “I only just got here. I heard a crash. What happened?”

 

Castiel's blush only darkens. “I, umm, tripped on my shoelaces, and dropped a tray of cookies.”

 

“I think that's why you're supposed to keep them tied up,” Dean can't help but tease. 

 

“I'll show you tied up,” Cas growls grumpily. There's a pause as the both of them think about what he just said. “Oh my… not like that!” Cas corrects as Dean bursts out laughing. 

 

“Should we establish a safe word first?” Dean snickers. He sobers quickly when he sees Cas looking sadly at the cookies on the floor.

 

“What's up, Cas?”

 

“I just wasted all those cookies. Obviously, we can't sell them now. What a waste…” he trails off and hunches back down to pick them up again. 

 

“I must have known that something was going to happen.” Dean proudly raises his arms high to show off the bags. “I mean, they're not home made delicious, but they're store bought delicious. I stopped and bought more cookies.” 

 

Cas looks up at him, eyes large and unbelieving. “You did? But why?”

 

Dean falters under the intense look from Cas. “Uhh, I could tell how important this was to yo--the community. I wanted to bring in a bit of extra money.” 

 

Cas stands up so quickly that Dean has no chance to react before he has an armful of Cas and his bags fall to the ground. “Thank you so much, Dean. You didn't have to do that.” 

 

It's a reassuring weight having Castiel in his arms. He's warm and solid and real pressed up against him, arms wrapped around Dean's shoulders, head leaning against his own. He's reluctant to admit it to anyone, even himself, but in Cas’ embrace he might be able to think that he missed the physical intimacy of being close to someone. It’s because of that that Dean's arms crawl up and around Cas, finding their way around his hips that are sharper than Dean would have guessed. And it might also be that line of thinking that causes the kiss. Cas fidgets in Dean's arms a little and turns to face Dean. Dean looks into his blue eyes and the next thing he knows his lips are pressed to Cas’ and they're kissing. He'd never be able to tell you how it happened, but he would be able to recall the heat in his chest that builds and makes him feel like he is about to burst. Cas kisses him sweetly, but Dean can feel promise behind it. He’s lost in Cas and can only grip his hips more tightly. It’s a relatively chaste kiss—open mouths, not even any tongue—but Dean feels the passion behind it, and if the kiss wasn’t quite so sweet and they weren’t in the middle of the library, he’s certain it would be on the path to a very very dirty kiss.

There’s a ruffling sound behind Dean but he doesn’t quite realize the implication of that, his arms wrapping around Cas’ torso, pulling him in even closer. It isn’t until he hears a throat being cleared that things click into place. Dean and Cas leap away from each other like they’d been burned. Standing in the doorway is Ellie, hand covering her mouth but smile apparent in her eyes.

“Goodness. I’m sorry for interrupting, but I believe we have some things to do before we open.”

Dean can feel himself flushing heavily, but a quick glance at Cas shows him that at least he’s not alone in his embarrassment for a change.

“Yes, we’ll get started on that now, Ellie. Dean brought some extra cookies.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did,” she said with a wink. Castiel just blushes harder.

“I’m sure you have something to do  _ over there _ , don’t you?” Cas says with a nod.

“Not really,” she responds with a gigantic grin. “But I’m sure I can find something since you’d like to be alone.”

“Thanks!” Can says tightly.

Ellie leaves the room with a small laugh, and one last glance over her shoulder.

“Well, I hate to say that she’s right, but we do still have some things to do,” Cas says reluctantly to Dean.

“Just tell me what to do,” Dean tells Cas.

Cas comes back up to Dean, crowding his personal space and places a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Thank you, Dean.” He presses one more kiss to Dean’s lips and Dean’s eyes flutter shut. Can pulls away, but stays lingering in Dean’s space. “We need to put up decorations still, plate all the desserts, and price everything.”

“I can put up the decorations,” Dean decides. “I don’t know how much everything should sell for.”

“That’s perfect.” Cas starts to walk away hand falling from his shoulder, but Dean catches the fallen hand and pulls Cas back for a moment.

“I’m glad to help,” he says and gives Cas one more kiss. “Now where’s the tape?”

***

The setup goes very smoothly. Dean finds a sturdy chair and puts up all the decorations, red-foiled hearts, silver cupids, and pink and white streamers everywhere he could reach. He’s guessing, on a very strong hunch, that the theme is Valentine’s Day. He’s especially glad now that he chose the frosted heart shaped sugar cookies this morning. The last thing Dean does is put up some posters at the front door. Dean walks back into the bake sale room and he has to admire his decorating skills.

While he was doing that, Cas put out all the desserts. The donations from the community had been dropped off the day before, and fortunately, most things just had to be uncovered and placed on the table. Can had laid everything out neatly, cookies, bars, and cakes all separated accordingly. He’d put out small hand lettered price cards for each platter. The room is set up so when people enter, they’ll go left and circle the room and finish back at the door where Dean and Cas will be set up with a cash box.

“It looks good in here,” he tells Cas.

Cas smiles at him from across the room. “Yes, you did a great job decorating.” Dean bristles at the compliment. He mutters a quiet thank you under his breath and can’t help but feel the heat in his cheeks again. He’s getting tired of blushing so much and he really wishes he could control that. Instead of trying to control it, he pulls out his phone to check the time. He sees a text from Sam ‘Have a great time at the bake sale, lover boy!’ Ugh, he swipes the notification away to complain about later.

“It’s five to eleven. Almost time to start. Ready?” he asks.

“One last thing,” Cas says pulling his own phone out. “We should share a photo now before everyone shows up.”

“Sure. Show them this perfection. I’d come in if I wasn’t already here.”

“Let’s take one together,” Cas says with a grin.

Dean frowns slightly. “Like, a selfie?”

“Yes,” Cas says decisively.

Dean is reluctant to have his photo taken. He’s never really been a fan of it. But Cas looks at him so earnestly, and how can he say no?

“Okay,” he grumbles instead of complaining and objecting like he wants to.

Cas just smiles even larger.

They stand in the doorway, backs to the room. Cas stands in front of Dean, back pushed up against his chest and Dean’s hands automatically go around Cas’ waist pulling him closer. Cas raises his phone and takes a moment to frame everything just right.

“Ready?” he asks Dean.

“Sure,” he finds himself saying.

His arms tighten around Cas and he smiles at the camera. Cas takes a few extra for safety. He lowers the phone and takes a look at the results, remaining in Dean’s embrace. “I like this one the best.” He shows Dean.

Cas looks amazing in the photo. Dean didn’t expect anything else. His eyes are bright blue in the picture, nearly glowing in the way they catch the light in the room. His dark, messy hair and the scruff on his chin frame his face making his eye pop more. His smile looks perfect, wide and white. Dean’s eyes eventually fall onto himself. He can see the crows’ feet by his eyes, his mess of freckles, and the beginnings of grey at his temples that he always tries to ignore. His smile looks crooked, but at least it extends to his eyes.

“I like you best in this one,” Cas says.

“But why?” Dean asks genuinely confused. Cas turns to face him remaining in his arms.

“Oh, plenty of things. Your smile is amazing,” his hand goes to Dean’s cheek and Dean automatically leans into it. “It fills your whole face. You can see it in and around your eyes. You’re gorgeous.” Dean definitely feels the blush returning at that. “You have freckles that you can’t see from far, but if you get close enough they’re so apparent and lovely.” Cas drags a thumb over Dean’s cheek. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to someone. His hand goes to Cas’ and grabs his wrist.

“Cas…” he trails off not sure how to continue. “I… I think I really like you.”

“You think?” Cas asks in an amused tone.

“I know I really like you,” he clarifies. He can’t help but add, “I wish I didn’t blush so much around you.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Cas informs him. “And if it’s any consolation, I know I really like you too.”

Dean feels the relief and excitement surge in his chest. Cas pulls him down slightly for another kiss. “I think we should get ready for people now,” he says almost sadly. Dean just nods in agreement.

Cas reluctantly leaves Dean’s arms and goes to take a few more pictures of the room and tables. Dean can hear Ellie in the main part of the library opening the doors and greeting the first visitors of the day. It isn’t long before Dean and Cas aren’t alone anymore. Dean thought he’d be sad about having to share Cas and, to be completely honest, he had been dreading dealing with people and having to make small talk, but every now and then he’ll look up at Cas and feel himself calm. If he’s lucky, Cas notices him sometimes and will give him a smile.

The time passes quickly and pleasantly. There is a very steady stream of people that are coming in, cash in hand. Cas seems to have done a great job of promoting the sale.

The bake sale is only scheduled to be open for five hours, but the next time Dean looks at the time, he’s shocked to see that it’s already 2:30. Ellie was kind enough to bring them sandwiches earlier when there had been a lull in customers and Dean bought them some cookies for dessert.

Dean had thought that libraries were on the verge of extinction. Like he'd told Cas, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been in one. But watching Cas talk to everyone that came in, greeting most of them by name, made him realize that maybe they're not quite as outdated as he'd thought. It isn't just old people either which is probably what surprises him the most. Though, judging by the way a group of teenage girls linger and giggling around Cas, he thinks there might be more than just an intense interest in the classics and confections. He pays them no mind until he overhears his name. 

 

“... Dean. … You should… oh my GOD!” He nearly jumps at the sudden rise in volume. He finally glances over at the huddle and is surprised when he sees them all looking at him. Four girls all smile megawatt grins and wave and Castiel looks a strange combination of smug and embarrassed. Dean's very confused. Cas breaks away from the group and heads over.

 

“Sorry about that, Dean,” he says. “The girls are just a bit excited. They saw our picture on Instagram. They're very invested in my love life for some reason.” Dean can hear them giggling and tittering on the other side of the room. 

 

“Why would they be?” Dean asks. 

 

“I have no idea. They said something about needing something to ship. I don't understand. But they were very pleased to hear that we have kissed.” 

 

“You told them? Why?”

 

“It just sort of came out. That was the outburst just now. I had to get away after that.”

 

“Well, it looks like we still have an audience. Want me to make them go away?” 

 

“Please? But do it nicely.”

 

“Got it.” Dean looks at the girls and claps his hands. “Okay, ladies. Let's pack it up. Go braid each other's hair somewhere else. If you're going to buy something, do it now.”

 

They reluctantly circle the room finally choosing sweets to buy and head to Cas to pay. Dean joins them to help everyone get squared. They're about to leave, sad, lingering looks on their faces and Dean feels a pang of pity for them. He knows what they want to see.

 

“Okay, just this once,” he says to them. They brighten immediately and Cas just looks confused. Dean pulls him in close and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips. The girls cheer and Cas looks confused when they break apart. “My friend Jo is a bit of a fangirl. I know what they like to see,” he explains.

 

“Oh,” is all Cas says absently.

 

The girls finally clear out and Dean and Cas can focus on the other shoppers. 

 

***

 

It's four in the afternoon and the library just closed for the day. In the last half hour, they'd marked down the rest of what they had and managed to sell everything. Dean is counting the money as Cas is clearing off the tables. 

 

“I have no idea how much bake sales usually make, but this seems like a good haul!” Dean exclaims. 

 

“Oh really? How much did we raise?”

 

“Just under twenty five hundred!”

 

“That's amazing! I was originally hoping for one thousand! We can do so much more with this now.” Cas’ excitement is contagious and Dean feels ecstatic for him. “Thank you so much for helping me today, Dean. I doubt it would have gone as smoothly if you weren't with me.” 

 

Dean feels that blush returning. “Glad I could help you.” And the words are honest. He's feeling the exhaustion of dealing with people all day for a change--he'd forgotten the physical toll it had to be “on” all the time, but the exhaustion isn't comparable to how content he's feeling. 

 

“Have dinner with me?” Cas asks him. “Tonight. Let's finally have our date. I don't have anything that can get in the way now.” 

 

Dean is only twenty nine, but he’s exhausted. His couch is calling his name and he misses his weekly pizza day and Netflix binge. If it was anyone else, he'd find a way out of it. It'd be easy enough. He's been ignoring people since the fall, at least, and his repertoire of excuses is extensive. But… he’s feeling good right now. There might still be another few months of cold, but Cas makes him feel warm and welcome. 

 

He’s overwhelmed with things he wants to say, but doesn’t know what to say without spilling exactly what he's thinking about how Cas makes him feel and thoughts of how he might be a little depressed and lonely and Cas is swooping in and saving him from this dark place in his mind and--

 

“Yes,” he manages to get out. “That would be awesome.”

 

Cas’ smiles grows even larger, showing off parts of his gums and Dean thinks he could live forever off the radiance of that grin alone.

 

“I'm almost done here. I'm just going to give the cash to Eleanor and we can go. You can decide where to go.” Cas gives him a pat on the shoulder as he leaves the room. 

  
Dean can't believe they're finally going to go on their date. Here’s hoping he can get through a meal with Cas, with no interruptions or other things to focus on other than each other and the dumb things Dean might say. But that should be fine. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr wasting my life [here](http://atomicdetectivehideout.tumblr.com/).


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